Best Obtained Poems
What things does one possess
at journey's end?
What bits and bobs? What trivial tripe?
Please, do tell, what is the hype?
For should I recall anything at all
of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
it would be the warmth of a companion's smile;
his hand in mine, while on this earth for a while.
The tickle of a tide brushing against tiny toes,
while the whisper in the wind, tells me all she knows.
Should I gaze at gems, pearls, rubies, emeralds--
Forsake the wisdom of the solid for the beauty of the temporal?
Should I throw caution to the wind, like seeds for the birds,
or stick to what I know - the solemnity of the written word.
Of trinkets obtained in memory's shawl,
be there anything at all worthy of my recall?
Happiness, Peace, Love and Joy -
these remained to be my one and only lot.
These intangible things more valuable by far
than gold and silver ingots.
At journey's end I stopped to ponder,
in the cloudless starlit night,
about the heavens and her wonder;
I was struck by sudden insight:
the lightness of the moon
suspended in air,
and the weight of a mere thought
that put it there.
dadgum doctors, heads up their butts
poking, prodding, pricking skin
neurologist a psychopath
gets pleasure as electric volts pass through my body
family doctor showed little concern
made me paranoid about irregular heartbeat
EKG failed to determine cause
left me more in doubt than at ease
dentist like a character from Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man”
the more pain inflicted
the more he rejoiced
deep root cleaning caused severe infection
bloodwork done by Vampira clones
labs filled with tubes and needles
results not shared with me
yet I footed the bill
optometrist an Oriental who moved so fast
didn’t care if the prescribed glasses worked
boo on you, dang aristocrats
waving your credentials
nurses so slow to respond
MRI promised on CD, but couldn’t be obtained
just like the blood tests, needed a “report”
doctors driving me insane
each should share my mental hospital bills
*Based on ongoing health tests and written for PD’s contest. Assignment Free Verse, 25 lines, category slam, sad and educational, title: Mental Hospital Bills
Twas the night before Christmas and all were in need
as we waited for Santa who had promised us Weed.
Our parents were sleeping with not a clue in their heads
that their children were Stoners and away from their beds.
The cheetos had been placed on the table with care
with an idea dear Santa soon would be there.
The winter was cold with no time for a snack
hoping Kris Kringle would come with fresh Pot from his sack.
I had been to the Bank and had obtained hordes of cash
with a fervent desire St. Nick would bring the best of his Stash.
We had our concerns for a reasonable fellow
who was honest and straight... no harshing our mellow.
The time had been set as I looked at the clock
knowing the waiting was tense and we needed our Pot.
And then from the porch a strange sound did we hear
but it was only friend Jim who had gone for some beer.
I stared out the window and peered through the snow
and we were greatly concerned whether Santa would show.
And then from the street... what did I observe?
A '72 ford Pinto... which was stuck on the curb.
The engine was smoking and the tires were flat
and with the windows quite frosted... I reached for my bat.
This didn't look good as I gave way to doubt.
Wondering who was the driver and who would come out?
And who should come forth? But Santa himself
who was all bearded and fat, a jolly old Elf.
He climbed to our rooftop... was nimble and quick
thus avoiding the doorbell... this fella was slick.
He was now in the chimney and this lightened our hearts
and we knew he was close when we heard the Elf fart.
And then in an instant the Big Guy appeared
but asking double the price for which we had feared.
We told him our troubles as he pondered our point,
he then lowered the price on every third Joint.
The payment was made and the dope was obtained
and up the chimney he rose unconcerned for the flame.
I'll remember that night... for it was a doozy
when Santa came through... and brought me a Doobie.
As he drove out of sight... I heard him calling my name...
Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Mary Jane.
The End
*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
There is much to be loved and appreciated about the United States Constitution, and
Heaven, I believe, breathed upon the founding fathers in their pursuit of good government.
England was ruled by kings and state bishops but never were there to be such in New England.
Christianity was indeed the driving force behind the nation, but no religion was to be mandated.
One of the things I appreciate most about the constitution is its God-Awareness and wisdom.
Nothing in history had provided the new nation with the idea of a government of, for, and by the people.
Sudden and swift suicide seemed certain a decade prior, except to those men willing to die for their cause.
Thirteen states united and saw themselves as, "We the people in order to form a more perfect union".
Independence had been fought for and obtained, and now it was time to establish a secure government.
Their time had come to be a beacon, a city on a hill, and it was time for good principled laws among men.
Unity was paramount, but it also required an agreement to disagree when a total agreement was not possible.
Tolerance among countrymen of like purposes was far superior to the intolerance and tyranny of Britain.
It was now time to put into practice, to implement, to execute and practice their plan before all the world.
Optimum care has been implemented, making this document the envy of the world.
Navigating and activating this sacred document need never be a constitutional crisis.
07022019PoSoupContest, Another Eight Word Challenge, Kai Michael Neumann. Chosen word: Constitution
Two years ago, when I was down,
I’d lost my father to cancer found.
My life was empty and full of pain,
I never thought I would feel again.
One night I awoke to a startling sight.
Thought I was dreaming or left on the light.
A kaleidoscope of colors seen glorious in the dark,
I couldn’t tear my eyes away and felt my beating heart.
The room became brighter, my body began to shake,
And then a clearer image unfolded before my wake.
Its wings were spanned far out, from wall to wall to wall,
A celestial image revealed itself, in a display of heavenly awe.
Then in a perfect higher pitch, I heard a heavenly sound.
I couldn’t tell just what it said but I knew it was profound,
And as it happened, in the moment, I felt my body ground,
For a radiant heat of golden light released my pain unbound.
To this day I stay amazed by what I saw and felt.
The fact that I was free from pain right then and there I knelt.
I Thanked God in heaven for this miracle that I obtained,
For the Angel that he sent me, gave me strength to live again.
03 August 2018
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Marching down life’s highway, my feet became very sore
I then came upon a sign that read “Heaven’s Grocery Store”
When I got closer the doors swung open wide
Next thing I knew I was standing there inside
I saw a flock of angels positioned everywhere
They handed me a basket and said, “Child shop with care.”
Everything a human required was in that grocery store
With many commodities to carry, you could always come back for more
First I acquired some Patience; Love was in that same row
Further down was Understanding, you require that everywhere you go
I grabbed a box of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two
And obtained Charity of course but more than just a few
And then reached for Courage to help me run this wicked race
My basket was almost full but remembered some loving Grace
I then chose Salvation for it was advertised as free
I tried to collect enough of that for both you and me
Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill
For I thought I had everything to do the Master’s will
As I went up the aisle, I saw Prayer and proceeded put that in
For I knew when I stepped outside I was bound to encounter sin
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last thing on that shelf
Song and Praise were hanging near so I just helped myself
Then I asked an angel, “Now how much do I owe?”
She smiled and said, “Just take them wherever you may go.”
Again I asked, “No really, how much do I owe?”
“My child,” she said, “God paid your bill a long time ago.”
My soul has been cut by a spiritual blade.
Out of control and I only finished the eighth grade.
I've walked the dark path and so many mistakes made.
I heard the devil's wicked laugh but I wasn't afraid.
I trusted no one, due to physical and sexual abuse.
I've held a 38 caliber hand gun but couldn't put it to use!
Women in my life, I just wouldn't allow in my personal area.
Even when I obtained a wife, it was border line hysteria!
I often wonder about the abuse I suffered as a child.
Did that contribute to sex, drugs, and running wild?
The fast life can cut like a knife, but I continued the climb.
But it all would lead to fingers being pointed at me for a crime.
I was afraid to go to trial although the crime I didn't commit.
Past crimes as a juvenile would make me look like the culprit!
I just couldn't put my fate in the hands of twelve strangers;
And so I'm an inmate, but I refuse to succumb to the anger.
I couldn't go to the funeral when my momma passed away.
Such pain like I've never known beneath my breastbone and my soul went astray!
I buried my grief and walked around just a shell of a man.
Relief was found, as I fought my way out of hell and that dark waste land!
I took my pen and begin to express the pain.
Just to releave the stress that was slowly driving me insane.
I always knew the poetry was buried inside me.
But who would have thought this poet only has a G.E.D.
Yes I'm a poet, and oh how I feel so emotionally free!
And you need to know it, that my whole ordeal is in my poetry.
If you could see inside who I am, you'll discover my pedigree!
My love is bonafide and no need for a diagram in my poetry!!!
*Wrote for Amy Green's contest (Tell Me About You)
This man was affectionately nicknamed “The Stork”.
He played only two seasons with the Mets from New York.
George was a native of Salt Lake City.
His major league baseball statistics were not pretty.
When interviewed, he would often deliver a vintage quip.
He would have played longer if he didn’t dislocate his hip.
After the 1974 campaign, George walked away.
He is a youth baseball coach and school counselor today.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
With nimble imploring
Of a tale found quite pretentious,
I found:
My sisters, my comrades,
Obtained skills some found offensive.
They roamed the hills of Scotland,
Burdened with hope enough for nations,
And every time our Mother cried,
Witnessed imprudent brutalization.
Through lands both waste and riches,
Continued on:
A solemn pilgrimage;
Armed with only incantations,
And herbs:
A witch's privilege.
Morrigan has told my spirit
What Brigid tried to say,
Men without us are monsters,
But their minds are such as clay.
That is why we carry on
Our nomadic occupation,
Driven from villages as The Dragon dies,
Though what we bring's salvation.
I've seen my sisters burn on poles,
Through lights: Theatre Magic,
Everyone was awed indeed,
My sisters' fates were tragic.
So to ensure insure
'Twas not in vain,
I set forth in expedition,
To find the valley between the hills,
That my sisters' lore has mentioned.
stability
is not obtained by
straightforward solutions ~
compromise, twists and turns
bypass obstacles
So versatile is the potato.
It’s orange; it’s yellow; it’s white; it’s sweet.
It’s baked or boiled; it’s mashed or fried.
It’s served with poultry, with fish or with meat.
I love to cook, and I have for you
three recipes for potato dishes.
Not too expensive, they’re easy and fast.
But best of all, they are most delicious!
A Tator Tot casserole I love to bake.
With my company, it’s always a hit.
Ground beef fried with onion is mixed with creamed soup
and the bag of tots! Bake with cheese over it!
From my childhood comes the twice baked potato.
I’m sure you’ve heard of it – bacon and cheese.
But try some canned tuna with canned green beans.
Top with good cheese; microwave; it’s a breeze.
Last is a recipe that I obtained
from the time that I spent in Madrid.
The Spanish omelet’s really big there.
This is a recipe that I “redid.”
I fry chopped potatoes and onions in oil.
Salt and pepper it; drain off the oil when gold.
Stir in lots of eggs till it’s moist and thick.
In omelet shapes this mixture should hold.
Onto a large griddle, pour each omelet shape.
Turn them like pancakes when each side is done
I’ve Americanized it by adding Tabasco,
melting cheese on it too; this food is so fun!
These are just three dishes made with potatoes.
I have many more. Do you think you could make
at least one of these I’ve described? Let me know!
And I hope you already know how to bake!
July 28, 2019
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's Cornucopia Cooking Poetry Contest
Jesus, I Need Victory Over a Habit!
This habit has a hold of me. ..
I can’t seem to break it!
I’ve tried many times, but I can’t “shake it!”
I don’t know what to do, or where to turn…
When I tell others about it.
They’re not concerned…
What should I do, in a situation like this?
It seems like my life is just a big mess!
The satisfaction I wanted, I haven’t obtained.
I’ve myself and no one else to blame…
Many discouraging thoughts
have entered my head.
Many nights I cry out, before going to bed…
I can’t think or do anything like I once did.
I don’t know how much longer,
I‘m going to live.
Can you help me Jesus? I know that you can.
There’s no one else who’ll listen
or understand.
I’m going to get on my knees and begin to pray…
I’ll ask for God’s help and start TODAY!
I trust his power to break this habit of mine…
This is the hour and the right time!
I need true freedom and a love that’ll last.
Everything I’ve tried… Disappears fast!
To you Lord Jesus, I give a life that’s broken.
“Please come into my heart”
are the words spoken.
Help me Lord to have victory within…
And thank you Lord for being my friend!
By Jim Pemberton 12/22/15
At a poker table in a Deadwood saloon,
Wild Bill Hickok popped his last balloon.
He suffered the most ignominious of fates
while holding black pairs of aces and eights.
Bill was unexpectedly shot in the back of the head.
“Crooked Nose Jack” McCall rendered Hickok dead.
Wild Bill was playing a game of five card draw.
His assailant was someone he never saw.
Since the Dakotas were in Indian country,
McCall could not be protected from double jeopardy.
A second trial convicted Jack McCall.
He was left hanging by his neck, and that was all.
This was one of the legendary tales of the West.
Wild Bill Hickok was more popular than most of the rest.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
An I am of Love is precept approved,
Doesn’t need approval of concepts' inept,
Doesn’t need the nod of man/woman, only God,
By precept of love’s absolve soul’s love is kept!
Seeing Love’s being is uncompromising,
Not of double mind concepts non-comprising,
Within one’s own precept love is the comprising,
Will be no rising in the mind’s compromising!
As yeast from the east, bread of life is apprising,
Pending only a few mind’s their realizing,
Of love’s precept which is uncompromising,
Where shall you be(?), at the precept’s advising…
In life’s ascension of illusion’s mountain,
Toward the drinking of your precept’s fountain,
Of clear, free moving waters, life appertain,
Where forever love’s precept shall be obtained!
Since the very dawn of precept’s greatness of spawn,
Parasites of concept’s might, sought the abject wand,
Oh Judas concept, mind inept, precept abscond,
The Stubborn Ox, the metaphor correspond!
The belligerent concept, of elder mind,
In complex darkness, is groping, seeking to find,
Within the whorish darkness first light’s refine,
Out of void of darkness came light, mind was blind!
she clarifies bacon grease
to make the popcorn
once it is in the bowl
add seasoning with butter
a tad of garlic, sea salt, sugar
the layers of flavor are a paradise
scattered in each morsel
this means a romantic movie tonight
probably one we have seen quite often
i never tire of this
holding her hand as she tears
with each tear, i fall in love again
she finds ways to make vegetables tempting
baked, fried, steamed, an array of seasoning
appetizers of soft cheese, celery, small sausages
while the cheese brings a subtle creamy softness
the celery mixes in fiber and mild juices
then assaulted by the piquant sausage
as it races upon my pallet
masticating this admixture
i become a contented bovine
mindlessly working the promised pasture
ruminating before i must surrender
heavens touch to the stomach
that precious smile she wears
watching that consuming ecstasy
as a soft moan of pleasure escapes me
they sit upon a thin elongated rectangular plate
which rests between two slim vases
one has a red rose, the other is pink
she never varies in that arrangement
red is her undying love for me
pink is her gratitude to God for our love
while colors never change
she will add different meanings at times
which she announces after grace
you are more than just a loving chef
you are the romantic that inspires me
you are the poet in the kitchen
whose depth lives within so many levels
i never tire of gazing upon her
she is the third rose at dinner
my Blue rose, the unobtainable
is obtained, the chimera realized
each bite i take is another sonnet
she has carefully crafted
in that enchanting cauldron
those soft moans escaping onto her smile
have become my book of best-loved poems
1/16/19 Kismet